Shepard and Shadow
by stevebond1990
Summary: Cerberus needed Shepard, but they weren't certain they could bring her back. Miranda was ordered to create a perfect clone in case she failed. Mistakes were made. Now Miranda has to deal with a pissed off Shepard and a disillusioned semi-clone. FShep/GV, MShepClone/ML, past FShep/KA


Shepard and Shadow

Awakening

"…_get up…"_

I feel like I'm in an ocean… a massive weight on my body, pressure around my eyes, can't see or hear clearly…

"…_Get Up, the mechs will find us soon…"_

There's that voice again… she sounds like an angel… wait! If she's an angel then…

I force my eyes open just as the room shakes violently, the heaviness steadily leaves my body as adrenaline floods my veins.

I'm in some kind of operating room, or perhaps a lab, to my left is a row of machines and a large footlocker, to my right is a beautiful woman with ivory skin, ice blue eyes, luscious brown hair and curves that could wreck a cruiser, I roll myself off the bed as the building shakes again.

"There's armour and weapons in that chest," the woman said, pointing to the footlocker, "Quick, grab them."

I stumble over to the footlocker, for some reason my balance seems off, like I've gained a lot of weight and height as well as my centre of gravity shifting.

* * *

I put on the armour a little slower than I should, using the time and motion to try and recover my balance.

By some stroke of luck it works, after picking up the weapons, an old M-96 and an M-6, I follow the woman out.

There's a group of corpses near the door, some in uniforms and two in armour… armour like mine, except the arms, shoulders and paint scheme, their armour is painted white, black and gold with this odd little black and gold symbol, but mine is two shades of grey… and the arms and shoulder pads of an Alliance Army trooper's Armour.

"How the hell do I know that?" I mutter, pulling the Mattock's stock tight to my shoulder, I'm getting flashes of memory… but they're not mine…are they?

One second I'm walking down this trashed corridor… suddenly I'm on my back, staring over the swells of my large breasts as a _MASSIVE _worm erupts from the earth, it's jaws wrapped around the drivers compartment of the Grizzly… as I watch, the jaws clamp shut, silencing several screams on the squad comm, the thirty – now twenty seven ton tank thunders to earth as the worm disappears…

A hand breaks my trance, I realise I'd stopped.

"Are you alright?" for some reason I feel that the concern on this women's face doesn't belong there.

"I will be…" I say, "Eventually," I add when she isn't looking.

* * *

Our progress is slow, several times we stop to check bodies or put down damaged mechs, as Lawson, she'd told me her last name and that she basically outranked me, rifled through a few pockets, I was doing the same in the labs.

I was in a workshop, it looked like they been modifying guns in here.

As I skim read the reports, I can somehow understand what I'm seeing, something on one of the pages catches my eye… pulling it up I see it's a report on how to modify weapons to use multiple smaller heat sinks in a revolver arrangement to improve rate of fire.

I run the numbers in my head, noting the margin note that the technique is only feasible with certain weapon models, my Mattock would require a massive rebuild but it can be converted.

I activate the fabricator bench and set my Mattock down, bringing up the holo-projector. I start making alterations immediately, within minutes the image resembles a cross between an M-55 and an old H&amp;K G-36.

I've managed to squeeze three two third sized heat sinks into the weapon, there's also a small reservoir of liquid nitrogen that is pumped into special vanes to cool the red lined heat sink when it's rotated out for a new one, currently this requires manual operation but I'll figure out something better later, I've also removed the ACOG scope in favour of a holographic red dot.

I picked up my finished rifle and racked the bolt, the mechanism cycled nicely, I also picked up a visor that synced to my armour and rifle, showing my shields as well as an impressive trauma sensor display, my rifle was loaded and ready, I turned around to find an impressed looking Lawson looking me and my new rifle over appraisingly.

"Impressive," she said, quite clearly meaning it, "the techs never considered that arrangement, I look forward to hearing how it performs."

She then turned and gestured I follow her, just before I did I swiped a Credit chit I spotted on the nearest work top.

* * *

We move steadily towards the shuttle bay, Lawson turns a corner then jumps back, a spray of bullets zip through the space she'd previously occupied.

"Tin soldiers?" I ask, she looks at me in surprise then nods, "How many?"

"Five LOKIs," she answers.

I palm a grenade and glance at Lawson, "throw up a barrier, I'll throw a frag, then duck back. We'll look out and scrap any survivors after the blast."

She nodded and readied her Biotics, she threw up the Barrier as I leant forward, the mechs were fifty yards away and immediately started peppering the translucent field with fire, the M-4 Shruikens barely bucking in their hands.

I threw the grenade like a cricket ball then ducked back, unslinging my rifle as Lawson pulls the barrier back, shielding us from shrapnel the ricochets off the opposite wall.

The explosion is followed by a cloud of shrapnel far larger than a single grenade should have produced, for a moment Lawson's Barrier looks like the surface of a lake in a rainstorm. Three seconds later it was over and we both leaned out cautiously.

All five Mechs were shattered, one of the heads was reasonably intact but the lights on its face plate flickered and died. The walls were badly pitted in hundreds of places and there was an asymmetrical three foot wide hole in the floor.

"Must have been a cluster grenade," I murmur thoughtfully, then move forward with my rifle up.

The rest of the trip to the shuttle bay was fairly quiet, mostly checking bodies and empty rooms, eventually we reach a door leading out onto a corridor that opens onto the walkway to the shuttles.

* * *

As Lawson struts to the walkway, I'm fighting to stay upright… I'm having more flashbacks of people, places and ship's some _woman_ knew and went… I pull my head together just as Lawson walks onto the bridge.

She's about hallway across as I step onto the bridge, I glance to my right and see at least a platoon of mechs standing over a pile of corpses in the doorway on the lower level and in the corridor in the facility proper. One looked up and took aim at Lawson as I duck behind a planter.

I stand up and fire, drawing Lawson's ire and the mech's attention, I trade fire with the mech, putting it down but a nine round burst breaks my shields and I'm nearly scalped by the two rounds that got through.

I duck down and blindfire my rifle, pulling back as blood streams down my face and blinds my right eye.

As I try to wipe away the blood, I hear Lawson unleash an Overload and a Biotic lift, I hear her heels tapping away on the deck as I blindfire again, I cease fire as she pulls on my arm, pulling me up and on.

"We need to reach the shuttles," through my good eye I can see her mask is in place, but her eyes and voice betray clear worry.

We pass through a massive blast door and she sets me down on a crate, she goes back to the door and seals it, just as several mechs started up the stairs, the doors closing before the mechs can fire.

* * *

I grasp my head in my hands, more memories, more people, places, events I don't know, some more… vivid than others.

Who am I? No… _What_ am I? Or is who _Was_ I?

I'm disturbed by Lawson kneeling in front of me, she pulls my hands away and lowers them, dark emerald meets ice blue.

"Are you alright?" she asks, the concern on her face is mixed with other less identifiable emotions.

"What am I?" she recoils as though I've slapped her.

She falls onto her plump arse with my next question, "Why do I have _some_ _women's_ memories?"

She stares at me in disbelief; fear, confusion, panic flash through her eyes as her mouth works wordlessly.

"I want the truth," I tell her flatly, my sidearm unfolding in my hand in emphasis.

She stares at the pistol then looks into my eyes, I find it hard not to be moved by the naked helplessness in her eyes.

"You were the backup plan," she admits evenly, "You were intended as a perfect clone of Commander Francesca Shepard but the DNA was somehow contaminated, I still don't know how."

She settles into a cross-legged position, elbows on her knees and her chin just above her interlaced fingers, "When Shepard's body responded better to treatment, it was then decided to use you as a source of cloned organs if her originals failed, but shortly after it was realised you weren't a perfect clone… but something else."

I snort derisively, "so I got promoted from illegal copy to profane abomination?"

She winces at my tone, "When we realised you were different, well… our planning came undone, your DNA is still close enough to hers that you remained a viable organ donor, but the question was raised on what to do with you if either Shepard still died or we didn't need the organs."

"The memories," I mutter.

"Yes, we borrowed research from a Krogan named Okeer and started downloading what we believed to be useful information into your mind, though we kept it to barest essentials in most cases in case… well, you know?"

"In case you needed to carve me up," she winces at my bluntness, for some reason discussing my origins and fate is getting to her, "that doesn't explain _Her_ memories."

"I can only assume the procedure allowed access to her genetic memory," Lawson shrugged.

We sit there in silence for several minutes, both lost in our thoughts.

"I need a name," I say finally.

"Well, genetically you are Shepard's brother," Lawson suggested.

I just look at her but accept she has a point.

"Emrys," I decide a minute later, "Emrys Shepard."

She smiles at me, a smile that makes my heart feel like it's lighter than air, "You're the one explaining this to Shepard."

The smile is wiped off her face, she sighs and nods, we both look up as gunfire erupts in the next room.

"That's probably her," Lawson says as we both get up, she looks at me and activates her Omni-tool, "Here."

I flinch as the cold gel is smeared over my head wound, but I can't help but grunt in relief as the bleeding and pain cease.

* * *

We both turn to the blast door, Miranda walks up to the door itself and stands in front of the hologram panel, she looks over her shoulder as I take up a position behind and to her right, I nod to her and bring my rifle to my shoulder.

The door mechanism cycles, it opens to reveal a bald Caucasian man, an African-American and a familiar looking red haired Caucasian woman in N7 armour.

"Miranda…" the bald man stutters, "No… but you were…"

He drops dead as Lawson, no, Miranda fires her M-4 into his neck at point blank range.

"Dead?" she asks the corpse coldly.

"Miranda? What the Hell are you doing?" the African man asks as the red head aims her sidearm at Miranda, then notices that I have her squarely in my crosshairs.

"My job," Miranda deadpans, "Wilson reprogrammed the mechs to come after me once he realised I was helping you."

"You're the woman from the comm?" the woman asks, still keeping an eye on me, "You should have taken him alive, see what he knew?"

"Too risky," Miranda responds with a shake of her head, "I've put too much time and effort into bringing you back to let you get killed now."

"You _really_ think Wilson's capable of that?" the man asked.

"Not now," I snark, noting the small tug on the corners of woman's lips.

The woman lowered her pistol, "I had the feeling he was looking for the chance to shoot me in the back."

"Good instincts," I comment, lowering, but like her, not slinging my rifle.

"Too many people are too trusting to see that coming," Miranda added.

"Come on, let's grab this shuttle and get out of here," Miranda continued, "my boss wants to speak to you."

"You mean the Illusive Man?" the woman asks, "I know you work for Cerberus."

"Some of us were drafted," I mutter, earning a look from both women.

"Aaahh Jacob," Miranda looks at the man, "I should have known your conscience would get the better of you."

"Lying to the Commander isn't the way to get her to join our cause," Jacob retorted.

"Well, since we're getting everything out in the open, is there anything you want to ask before we go, Commander?" Miranda asked the woman.

She looks at me, her intense emerald eyes bore into my own.

"Who's he? And why does he look like me?"


End file.
